The Italy That We Know?
by TheLittleSunflower
Summary: Italy is acting strange. Germany will find out why. One-shot. Terrible summary. Germany HRE.


**I wrote this story for my friend (EllaStarbrook go check her out!) because she sent me a picture (the cover of this story) and I said that I would write a story based off of it. And then this happened.**

 **Warnings: Yaoi. No likey, no read-y! Angsty, kind of a lot. A little tiny itty bit of fluff at the** **end. No smut so if that is what you came for, sorry! Rated T for a bit of swearing.**

 **Disclaimer: I, in no way, shape, or form, do not own Hetalia. That belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya, also** **known as Dark Lord Hima. If I owned Hetalia, there would be a LOT more PruCan.** **Oh, and much more Russia!**

 **Story time!**

* * *

The Italy That We Know?

The car sped away at a speed deemed extremely unacceptable by the driving German. The Italian in the passenger seat continuously looked back. "Damnit Ludwig, drive faster!" The voice of his companion completely threw him off. The bitterness in the small Italian's tone and in his facial features, his eyes open for once, was completely foreign to him. He looked over to his passenger, completely ignoring his custom of always looking at the road, and thought _"How did this happen? And to think everything was so normal this morning."_

~7 hours earlier, 5:00am~

Germany woke up, early as usual. He looked beside him, not surprised to find the Italian next to him shivering. The past few months consisted of Italy sleeping in his bed because he had nightmares if he had to fall asleep alone. Picking up the ends of the blanket, Germany covered his friend and wrapped him up securely.

"D-Doitsu?" Italy looked up with eyes closed just enough for him to miraculously still be able to see clearly. "Italy, go back to sleep."

"Huh?" Italy took a moment to process what was being said to him. "Oh no, I'm already up." He leapt up, leaving the blankets in a messy heap on the bed, happily bounding towards the door. Germany sighed, making the bed and heading into the bathroom. He quickly washed his face and slicked back his hair, slipping on his Iron Cross pendant over his black tank top. He silently strode out to the kitchen, ready to grab a cup of yogurt and toast before proceeding with his morning calisthenics. Instead, the sight before him startled him. Italy had been cooking and was just finishing up making wurst and potatoes and had set a plate of pasta out for himself. He turned around and his smile grew immensely. "Germany! I was going to surprise you with breakfast!"

Germany looked at the food Italy had set on the table and back to the Italian. He had never let Italy make him food before because he felt that would not be right for a guest to cook for him. Italy had always insisted, however, and always managed to coax Germany into eating something he had made for dinner. But, this was the first time he had made this German favorite. "Italy, you didn't have to-" The Italian cut him off. "I know I didn't have to, but I was up at the same time you were for once and decided to try to surprise you with breakfast!" Germany sat down at the table and Italy followed suit. He picked up the fork and knife and took a bite. His eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. Italy began stammering. "Do you like it? You don't! I tried to make you something but it turned out horribly! It's terrible, isn't it? I'm sorry! I tried to-"

The blond closed his mouth before opening it again to say, "It- It's amazing! This is the best wurst and potatoes I have ever had!" Italy stopped rambling. "Really? I would've made it for you before, but it took me a month or so to perfect the recipe." Germany was speechless. Italy had spent so much time working on something for him?

"Thank you," was all he could say to express his gratitude. Italy's smile grew even wider, if possible, and began eating his pasta.

Once they had finished eating and washed the dishes, Germany decided it was about time to train. Italy knew this as well and followed Germany outside. "Could I train with you?" Germany looked at the Italian, thoroughly surprised. He mainly skipped out on training to take a siesta or play with animals or something. Germany sighed. "Alright, but no slacking." Italy nodded and skipped off towards the race track.

"We will start with 5 laps around this track and come back to it later." Nodding, Italy took his place at the starting line. Quickly, Germany joined him and said to begin. Surprisingly, the normally extremely lazy Italian who could barely run unless in retreat was going faster than him. He wasn't tired once they finished the 5 laps, either, like he normally would be. _"This is strange. I wonder what is making Italy act so unusual today."_ Germany's train of thought was broken when Italy had asked "What next?"

For the rest of the training, Italy did remarkably well. Germany was very confused as to the Italian's behavior, but didn't question it because he was glad that he was actually trying for once. Instead, he went about his day as normal. He went to the meeting he had with his boss and returned home. That was when the trouble started.

* * *

Germany arrived back home after a tiring meeting, deciding he would have something to eat and then read. Instead, he approached his house to hear the distinct sound of gunshots ringing out from the living room. He quickly took out his gun that he kept on him for emergencies, thinking this probably qualified as an emergency. Then he heard the voice he knew so well, only without the cheerful tone and mirthfulness it usually had.

"Put that away. I'm sorry I don't have it, but you don't need a gun." A second voice was then heard. "Of course I do! I need it to scatter your brains across the walls for not having what we asked for!" Now a third voice. "Calm down!" The second man spoke again. "No! He won't give us what he owes!I think that qualified as an excuse for brain scattering!" And the third guy once again. "Alright, but make it quick. Boss wants us back as quickly as possible." Germany was just about to burst inside and rescue Italy, until he heard said person speak up.

"I don't think so." He heard signs of a fight and ran inside. Italy had one of the men pinned to the ground and the other was unconscious. He punched the man once more and the man slipped into unconsciousness as well. Germany stood at the door, completely shocked at what he had seen. Italy looked up. "Germany, how nice to see you." The voice was still different than usual. He stood up, grabbing both men's guns, lifting his waistband to put them there, revealing the gun he already had.

"What just-" Germany was cut off by loud banging from the back door. Italy looked from the back door to the front, saying "Shit, they heard the commotion. We gotta go." The smaller nation grabbed the blond's hand, pulling him out the front door, grabbing the car keys on his way out. Once they got down to the car, Italy tossed the keys to Germany and got in. Germany hesitated, not unnoticed by Italy, who then shouted out, "What are you waiting for? Get in and drive! Hurry!"

Taking one last look at the house, Germany climbed into the car, starting it and pulling out of the driveway. Soon enough, another car came after them. And we are back to present time.

"Feliciano, tell me what is going on." Feliciano's expression softened at the use of his human name, one which Germany never used. "Luddy, I'm sorry for dragging you into this."

Ludwig looked back at the road and sped up. "Answer the question."

Feliciano sighed. "I owe the Italian mafia some money." Ludwig almost slammed the brakes down in shock. "The Italian mafia?! How did you get mixed up with the Italian mafia?"

"I may or may not have secretly joined the mafia?"

And there goes the almost hitting the brakes again. "Isn't your brother boss of the mafia?" This confused Ludwig even more. Romano would never let his little brother join the mafia. "That's the thing, he doesn't know."

"How does he not know who is even in his mafia?"

"I've been bribing everyone to not tell him and I missed a payment."

"So they decide to kill you instead of just telling him."

"That's usually how it works."

 _"_ _This must be why he was training so hard today. Maybe he knew this was going to happen."_ Germany thought. He then asked, "How long has this been going on?"

"...Since the Napoleonic Wars." He spoke in a quiet, hesitant voice. In contrast, Ludwig almost screamed out, "Over 200 years?!" Just then, Feliciano's phone began ringing. He took it out of his pocket. "It's fratello." Recognizing the Italian word for "brother", Ludwig told Italy to answer and put it on speaker. He did as such and spoke into the phone. "Ve, Romano!" The normal, chipper tone of voice had returned and it amazed Ludwig how easily Feliciano was able to switch his voice.

"Tell me Feli, why is my mafia chasing after you?" Feliciano visibly stiffened. "Huh? What do you mean?"

"Cut the crap Feli. I know you are being chased and I want to know why."

Germany looked over at the phone while Italy was thinking of something to say. "Tell him." Apparently, he wasn't quiet enough because the next thing Romano said was, "Potato bastard?! What do you know that I don't?!"

"I found out about 5 minutes ago."

"Fine, if my brother won't tell me, then you tell me." Feliciano's head snapped up to face Ludwig at those words, desperately shaking his head. Ludwig chose to ignore him. "Italy has-" Said nation cut him off. "NO!"

"It's for your own good." Italy made a grab for the phone, but Ludwig beat him to it. Holding the phone in his hand farthest away from Italy and driving with the other, he said, "Italy has been in your mafia for over 200 years and bribed everyone to not tell you and he missed a payment." There was a moment of silence on the line. And then, "VENEZIANO! You know I wanted you to stay away from the mafia! Wait, how long ago did you say he joined?"

"About 200 years."

"That was during the Napoleonic Wars, right?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?" Ludwig was confused. Why did the French Revolutionary Wars keep coming up?

Romano's voice softened. "Feli, why didn't you tell me?" Feliciano, who was silent during this time spoke up again, but with a quiet voice. "I didn't think you'd understand."

"But I would have been there for you." Now Germany was really confused. "What does France and his wars have to do with anything?"

Romano now sounded frustrated. "During those wars, France killed-"

Now Italy was the frustrated one. "France? It was France?! You told me you didn't know!" If possible, Germany became even more confused. "Shit. I shouldn't have said that. Where are you right now?"

"I am driving and Italy is in the passenger seat."

"Potato bastard, bring Feli over to my house."

That, Germany could understand. "Okay. Italy, What are you doing? No, stop!" The sound of screeching tires and gunshots were what Romano heard. "What's happening?!"

"Italy jumped out of the car, shot your mafia guys, stole their car, and is driving away with it."

"Shit! Meet me at France's house!" Romano hung up. Italy's newfound car was too far away to be able to see. Luckily, Germany knew a shortcut to France's house after having gone there so many times to pick up his drunk older brother, Prussia, after their nights out with Spain as the Bad Touch Trio.

* * *

Germany arrived slightly after Romano, who was hiding behind a bush. Romano beckoned him over. "Why are you behind a bush?" Romano pulled him down and shushed him. "Because I am looking for Feli." Germany looked around. "Behind a bush?" Romano felt a very strong urge to either face palm, or punch the potato bastard in the face. "Yes, now watch."

"Why do you think he is going to come here?"

"Revenge."

"Revenge for wha-"

"Shh he's coming!"

Germany looked up out of the bush to see Italy holding a bouquet of roses in one hand and had his other hand behind his back. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, but Romano was just sitting, watching intently. So he waited.

Italy knocked on the door with his hand holding the bouquet and soon enough, the door opened and Germany saw the faces of France and Prussia. "Ita-chan! Are you and my brother coming to get me or something?" Prussia said the last part somewhat bitterly. The voice of Spain could be heard in the background. "Ita's here?"

The happy smile disappeared and was replaced by a stern look. He pulled a gun out from behind him and said, "Actually, I'm here on my own." Both Prussia and France put their hands up. "Woah, mon cher, What are you doing?" They started backing up as Italy walked forward. Romano shot up **(get it? Shot? No? Bad joke? Okay, nevermind)** and ran inside, Germany trailing behind.

Prussia looked between Italy and France, seeing how the gun seemed to be pointed only at France. "Ita won't shoot. He's too sweet." To prove him wrong, Italy shot Prussia in the arm. Romano and Germany ran in right after the shot was fired. The gun resumed its position, pointed at France. Germany looked over the scene before them, Spain on the couch in the back, looking completely shocked, and hesitated before running over to help his brother and let Romano take care of his.

The Bad Touch Trio all would've expected Feliciano to be crying and shaking so much he could barely hold the gun. However, he had a stone-cold look in his eye, hands completely still.

Romano slowly approached his brother. "Fratello, don't do this." Feliciano didn't move. "It's not what he would've wanted. You think he would have wanted you to become a murderer? Although, I bet you already are. But do you think he would've wanted you to kill a nation?"

Feliciano was starting to shake. Spain spoke up from the back of the room. "Lovi, what is going on?" Romano keep put his eyes on his brother. "Feli just found out what really happened during the Napoleonic Wars. He found out why Holy Rome didn't come home."

The two nations held at gunpoint took a sharp intake of breath. Spain simply looked down and said "oh." It seemed everyone in the room except Germany knew exactly what was happening and why. He felt now wasn't a good time to ask and made a mental note to ask Prussia later, finishing up patching up the arm.

At this point, Feliciano was shaking so badly that he could barely hold the gun anymore. Romano slowly walked closer and took the gun away from his trembling little brother. Said brother broke down and fell to the floor in wracked sobs. France put his hands down and breathed a sigh of relief while Romano kneeled onto the ground, pulling Feliciano into a hug. All three of the Bad Touch Trio knew they could each single-handedly take down Italy quickly, but none of them wanted to hurt him, thinking he wouldn't be able to do it.

Romano spoke softly. "Feli, listen to me. Get out of the mafia. It isn't the place for you." At the indication that the younger Italian was in the mafia, the trio's heads snapped up and they screamed in unison. "WHAT!?" Germany explained everything to them while Romano continued to calm down his brother. "I c-can't." Everyone in the room fell dead silent as those words left Feli's mouth.

"Why not?" Romano could feel himself getting more aggravated, at nothing really, by the second. "Because if I do, the nightmares will come back." Everyone was listening intently.

"What kind of nightmares?" Romano was wary of asking this question, not knowing what Feli would do, or have to remember.

 _Italy was back at Austria's house and he was in the courtyard. He looked around. Everything seemed so familiar, but it was different. It seemed strange. Eerie. And Italy wanted to get out of there as fast as he possibly could. He tried to run but his legs wouldn't move. He couldn't leave, and it seemed this place in which he grew up was getting scarier by the second. Austria appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. Italy didn't care about how that seemed very out of ordinary, considering England was the only person to appear out of nowhere by means of his magic, and was simply happy that here was someone he knew who might be able to explain what was happening. And he wanted to know soon because the sky was beginning to turn blood red, spooking Italy even further._

 _"_ _Austria!" He called out. Quickly, he slapped his hands over his mouth. His voice had changed. It was back to the high, girly voice he had when he was younger and living at this place. He looked down and realized he was shorter and was wearing one of the dresses he wore when he was younger that Hungary enjoyed to dress him in so much._

 _Austria approached the now little Italian. The sound of his shoes clicking against the concrete made the place seem even more menacing. The elegant Austrian spoke for the first time. "What are you doing here?"_

 _Italy became confused. "What do you mean? I live here." This shocked himself. He had moved out quite a while ago. What shocked him even more was the terrifying scowl on his former -current- caretaker's face. "You are not welcome here."_

 _Italy began stuttering. "Wha-What do you mean?"_

 _The look on Austria's face was now showing complete disgust. "You killed Holy Rome. You do not deserve to be here." Not knowing what was going on, Italy simply replied, "I would never hurt him! I loved him! I wanted him to come back to me, like he promised! I didn't kill him!"_

 _Hungary appeared next to Austria, also scowling. "That is what you say. But we all know it was really you." Suddenly, all of his friends began appearing, one by one. Germany, Romano, America, France, Spain, Prussia, Russia, China, Japan, England, and so on. Even nations he barely ever talked to. Each and every one of them was looking at him in pure disgust. They began a chant. "You killed him. You killed him. You killed him. You killed him." They repeated this over and over again, gradually getting louder until they were all screaming it out so loud it almost blew Italy's eardrums out. He tried covering his ears with his hands and squeezing his eyes shut as tight as possible, but he could still see and hear everything. He kept repeating to the chanting crowd, "No! I would never! I didn't kill him, I swear!"_

 _A horrifying sight then appeared in front of him. Italy watched in terror as an unidentifiable figure had Holy Rome pinned to the ground. The figure was holding a sword and held it up, bringing it straight back down. Italy tried to scream out for the figure to stop, but it was no use. The sword tore through the flesh of the 'child'. The blood was splattered and Italy was soon covered with it. He was sobbing, trying to get the figure to stop as it twisted the sword, making more blood spew out of the little body. There was nothing Italy could do to help. He knew that screaming would not help, but he still continued to scream out "Stop!" through choked sobs._

 _The figure disappeared and Italy was suddenly able to move once again. He ran to the now lifeless body of his childhood love, sobbing over him. The chanting stopped and it was eerily quiet once again with only the sound of Austria's shoes clicking against the ground._

 _"_ _See? This is your fault. If only you had joined him, he would have been strong enough to fight back. He would have been able to survive."_

 _Italy began sobbing once again, managing to squeak out, "That's not true!"_

 _Hungary chimed in. "Of course it is. The two of you together could have totally stopped him."_

 _The figure slowly returned. Italy tried to run away, but he couldn't move once again. "Wha-What is going on?! How can I s-stop him?" Austria looked down at the small, crying Italian. "You must kill. Or he will kill you."_

 _"_ _What?"_

 _"_ _Kill or be killed." This became the crowd's new chant. A gun appeared at Italy's side. He picked it up with trembling hands, pointed it at the slowly approaching figure, and squeezed the trigger, squeezing his eyes shut as well. When he opened them, he watched in horror as the bullet wound on the shadowed figure slowly closed up, as if it had never been there. There was a blood splatter on the ground, however. Italy shot the gun a few more times, blood splattering everywhere. Each time, the wound closed and healed itself. Italy didn't know what to do. He could still hear the chants of "Kill or be killed" steadily increasing in volume._

 _Austria and Hungary had returned to their places at the front of the crowd while the figure crept closer and closer to the terrified Italian, who was trying to run away although knowing it was useless. A sword was driven through him, at the hand of the still unidentifiable figure, reducing Italy's vision to darkness._

This was the dream Italy had had every single night, waking up in the morning screaming and sweating, but shaking and shivering, until he decided to do something. He had called up the only thing he knew he could try something. He called one of his brother's mafia subordinates and told him he wanted- no, needed- to help him kill. At that point, he could feel the wicked smile coming from the man through the phone. After Italy had said he did not want his brother to find out, the man had named a price to be paid annually. He had told him the conditions of the agreement. Italy could calm his "craving to kill", as the man had called it, although that was far from the truth, and not a word would be said to Romano as long as Italy paid up. However, if he does not meet his end of the requirement, he would come to an end. Italy felt that that condition was too harsh, but still agreed, knowing it was the only way.

The next day, the man had let Italy kill someone, something he had no experience in as he was a lover, not a fighter, and the nightmare had stopped that night, although there was a much less mild one containing only his friends and the chanting. He didn't like that either, but felt it was much, much better than the other one. The day afterwards, Italy had not done anything, figuring the other nightmare had ended. However, that was not true. The same nightmare came back once again and ever since then, Italy had tried his very best to kill someone each day.

He soon realized that after killing, if he had someone with him to sleep next to, the mild nightmares would end. He would crawl into Romano's bed at the end of each day. Romano had protested at first, but one of the days, Italy had woken up screaming and terrified. What Romano had not known was that Italy hadn't killed someone that day. But, he held his little brother close and calmed him down, now knowing the reason why he had always insisted on sleeping with him.

"E-Everyone was a-always saying t-that it was my fault h-he was dead! If I had j-just joined him like he asked, m-maybe he would've been strong e-enough! A-and I kept i-imagining him dying and I c-couldn't get that i-image out of my head! The only w-way to make the nightmares s-stop is t-to kill someone! That was-is the only way to have a p-peaceful night."

France was the first to speak. "It wasn't your fault. That blame will always rest on my shoulders. I am truly sorry. I had no other choice. I did what I had to-"

"NO! You had other choices! You could have saved him like you did Prussia after WWII! You gave Prussia East Germany, why couldn't you give Holy Rome something, anything!?" Italy pulled out another gun and stood up, still crying, and walked forwards, making France walk back until he hit the wall. "You killed him, so why shouldn't I do the same to you! Maybe the nightmares will stop when you are gone!" Everyone now realized little, innocent Italy truly was capable of pulling that trigger, and he was just about to when...

"Italy wait!" Prussia couldn't stand this anymore, seeing Italy like this, and decided something needed to be said. "Holy Rome is not dead. He is still alive."

 _Prussia ran under the blood-red sky, searching frantically. "Verdammt, I knew I shouldn't have let the kid go off buy himself!"_

 _His little brother, Holy Roman Empire, had insisted that he would be fine. They were fighting in a war. Prussia was on opposite sides as his friend France, and knew he would have to fight him eventually. His plan was for him and Holy Rome to combine their troops and attack together, but the empire had insisted that he was strong enough to go it alone, and that if they split up, they could cover more ground. Prussia hesitated, but saw the fierceness in the kid's expression and the fire behind his gave him the area he knew would be less of a threat, although he would never tell him this, and they set off in different directions._

 _Now, Prussia had heard that France himself had gone into that area. He knew his friend, and knew that he could make rash decisions in time of war. He left his troops, knowing they could fend for themselves, and ran as fast as he could to where he knew his little brother would be at. He saw the glint of a sword and ran, eventually stopping in his tracks. "France!"_

 _Said nation looked up from the smaller nation he had pinned on the ground. He quickly looked away from his friend as he brought his sword down once, blood splattering on his fancy clothes. He quickly pulled his sword out of the small body. He looked away, unable to meet the eye of his friend. "I am sorry mon cher." France walked away leaving Prussia alone._

 _As soon as France was out of eyesight, Prussia ran over to the seemingly lifeless body. He quickly felt around for a pulse and breathed a sigh of relief. There was still something there. And he knew exactly where._

 _He picked up his little brother's body and ran as fast as his legs could take him. Running towards that place. The one he knew was still intact. After what seemed like forever, he reached his destination, putting down the dying body. He had arrived at the safe house he and Holy Rome had established. One that they built together as the center of operations. You could call it his beating heart._

 _They had put together some things in the center as sort of like a nurse's station, in case they ever needed it. And it seemed they would need it now._

 _Prussia ran around, gathering everything he knew he would need. After years and years of doing this, he had learned how to perfectly clean and close a wound and it became almost second nature. He applied pressure onto the wound while he was setting things up to stop the bleeding. Then, once he got the bleeding to at least slow down, he cleaned up the wound as Holy Rome slipped in and out of consciousness. He quickly began sewing up the wound with his skilled hands. By the time Prussia had finished, Holy Rome had become completely unconscious, but still breathing. Prussia brought him to a room in the back and set him down in bed, covering him up securely and letting him rest._

 _When he woke up, Prussia had been sitting in a chair by the bed, smiling widely as his little brother began to finally wake up. The kid looked around, eyes widening. "Where am I? Who are you? Who am I?"_

 _Prussia's smile fell off his face. "You really don't know?"_

 _The kid shook his head. "The most I can remember is that I am the representation of, something, I don't really know."_

 _Prussia sighed. "You are the representation of a country. You are a nation. Right now, we are in a building in your country. The awesome me is the awesome country of Prussia! I can also be known as Gilbert Beilschmidt! And you have the greatest honor of being my little brother!"_

 _The kid nodded. "So if you are the country of Prussia, what country am I?"_

 _Prussia thought for a moment. "You, you are the country of…Germany! Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"_

 _Germany smiled. "Yes, I think so."_

Italy stopped short, turning towards the usually arrogant Prussian. "No, that's not possible. He would've come back to me! He promised!"

"It is possible. After Francey-Pants stabbed him, I brought him to a safe house and quickly cleaned him up and kept him alive. But when he woke up, he didn't have any memory of anything. So I gave him a new name and raised him. I named him after our grandfather, Germania."

Everyone turned to Germany, who was extremely confused. Italy had dropped the gun and Romano picked it up. Prussia continued. "West, I was waiting for the memories to come back on their own, I didn't want to force anything, and I am surprised they haven't yet, especially with all this talk about Holy Rome."

Germany stared at his brother, not knowing what to believe. "Are you saying that I am someone else?"

"No, you are still you. You just have lived two completely different lives. Both filled with war and destruction, but in different ways."

Spain said something for the first time in a long while. "Why didn't you just tell him the truth in the first place?"

Prussia sighed. "I-I don't know. I guess I wanted him to be able to live and grow up without having the burden of those memories."

Germany scoffed. "And this is any better? How am I supposed to remember?"

"I don't really know. But I think if you hear something or see something that was significant when you were Holy Rome, it could trigger memories."

Italy, now very calm, walked forward. "I can help with that." Germany nodded, but held out his hand. Italy understood and lifted his shirt to reveal his waistband, taking the last gun and placing it in the extended palm. Then, he walked over to Prussia and whispered something to him. Prussia whispered back and they were having their own private conversation. Soon enough, Prussia nodded and Italy walked away, into another room, Prussia following behind him. Nobody still in the room knew what to say and all waited for the two to return.

They quickly returned. Italy walked up to Germany and held out a pushbroom. He looked up. "I have loved you, ever since the 900s." Germany took the broom, not knowing what it meant. He was silent. Prussia was watching the encounter very closely. "Anything?" Germany looked back down to the broom and was about to shake his head when he suddenly gasped and backed up into a wall, sliding down and holding his head in his hands. Five sets of eyes were watching intently, unsure of what to do.

After what seemed like forever, he looked up, pushing himself up and off of the wall. Prussia spoke up, cutting the silence. "So?"

Ludwig sat down on the couch. "Many images flashed before my eyes." He stood back up and walked over to Italy. "Italy, what do people at your home give to their loved ones?"

Italy began crying again and Ludwig was taken aback, thinking he did something wrong. However, Italy threw his arms around him. "It really is you!" Everyone was uncomfortable with watching this private moment. Except Romano. He was mumbling something about having his little brother in love with the damned potato bastard. Until Prussia began laughing hysterically.

"What's wrong with you?" Ludwig had asked after he and Italy split apart. Prussia could barely contain himself, but was able to calm down enough to say, "I remember when you thought that Italy was-", but didn't get very far because Ludwig had tackled him to the ground, knowing he was about to say "a girl".

Italy smiled, a truly happy smile for once in a long time.

THE END

* * *

 **Cheesy ending, yes I know. I couldn't make it not cheesy or fluffy.**

 **As for Prussia and Italy's conversation:**

"Do you remember if you have ever seen a ratty, old push broom around?" Italy asked. Prussia scrunched his brow, thinking hard, before whispering back, "Oh yeah, I remember seeing one. I found it somewhere in the remains of his empire. I didn't really know why I kept it, but I didn't need it, so I stuffed it into the storeroom of Francey's house."

"Is it still here, in his house?"

"Yeah, should be. Unless France threw it out, but I doubt he even knows it's in there. I put it in the very back and he never goes back there. He keeps saying he is going to clean out all of that junk in there but never gets around to it. So he kinda just avoids it."

"Could you show me where it's at?"

Prussia nodded and they headed off to find the storeroom of France's house. Prussia found the door to the storeroom and they went in, going to the very back. Amidst all the junk, Prussia called out, "Here it is!"

"Thank you." Italy took the broom from him and they headed back to the living room.

 **And there you have it. Just in case you wanted to know.**

 **Anyway, review to get a cookie! Bye! Nicoli out!**


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